


Homework

by smallandstrange



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, everyone has self esteem issues, poor beth, poor rick, poor stan, stanched micro bang, stanchez
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8427010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallandstrange/pseuds/smallandstrange
Summary: A fluffy exploration of home life with Rick, Stan and Beth at the Mystery Shack. Beth is having trouble with her Homework and Rick is NOT helping.Here's a lovely illustration by stanchez-sloppy-seconds!!http://stanchez-sloppy-seconds.tumblr.com/post/152491432641/stanchez-sloppy-seconds-my-stanchez-bang Content Warnings: strong language, possible C-PTSD, verbal abuse, internalized ableism





	

It was a good day. For what felt like the first time in months, the sun shone down on Gravity Falls, Oregon. For the first time in what felt like years, no one came busting down the door trying to kill Stanley Pines. No loan sharks with baseball bats and no aliens trying to harvest his blood plasma. None of that weird-ass paranormal bullshit. Hell, even Rick was in a good mood. That felt like the first time in, well, _forever_. 

Stan sat at kitchen table, pouring over some audits he needed to clean up before the feds came after Owl Trowels. Again. Sitting across from him, Beth did her homework in silence. She was a real studious kid. Bright like her dad, but very serious. A few feet away, Rick scrambled around the kitchen making dinner. 

“Nuh uh! No way! I am not eating alien again!” Stan said in horror as he watched Rick put some sort of wriggling gray flesh into the pan. 

“Jesus Christ, Stan. It’s just snails. Cool it, Stan.” He replied rolling his eyes as he stirred snail meat into the paella. Stan gave him a questioning look. 

“T-trust me, Stan. It’s- it’s gonna blow your goddamn mind.” Rick added with a smile.

Stan smiled back. 

“Whatever you say, ya weirdo.”

Stan took a moment to survey his surroundings. It was like something out of a heart-warming family sit com. He felt something strange in his heart. A quaint warm feeling.

 _“Contentment?”_

How strange. Stranger than alternate dimensions or aliens, or the town of Gravity Falls was the thought that he- Stanley Pines- might feel… content. He felt a lot of things when he was with Rick. Mutual protection, excitement, fear, euphoria, lust…

_“Love…”_

But they were both ambitious men. They were hungry. There was a part in them that could never be filled. Not with all the money, booze, sex and drugs in the world. Or the universe, for that matter. Stan gave up long ago on the idea of ever being content. And yet, here in the kitchen with Rick and Beth, he wanted for nothing. 

_“Gross.”_ he thought with a shudder. Was he going soft?

“Alrigh-okay. Dinners ready.” Rick mumbled as he dropped three plates on the table. 

“Looks good.” Stan said with a smile. 

“T-told you, you-you idiot. How ‘bout you let- you let me handle the cooking, Mr. Catches-Pasta-Water-On-Fire?” Stan gave him a brief peck on the cheek.

“That was one time!” Stan protested, blushing.

“Shut up and eat.” Rick said, shoving the plate at him and pulling out a chair next to him. 

So what? Maybe he was finally going soft. In this moment, it didn’t matter. 

Beth used her free hand to pull her plate closer. She continued scribbling down math problems even as she absently shoveled a fork-full of paella into her mouth. 

Rick was regaling Stan with some sensational tale about the time The Flesh Curtains played a concert during a supernova when Stan realized Beth was mumbling to herself in frustration.

“Whatcha working on, kid?” Stan asked.

“Homework.” She said, distracted.

“Really? Even on break?”

“Yeah.”

Beth still wasn’t past that phase where she responded to everything Stan said with one word responses. He supposed this was a pretty normal way for a kid to act around their dad’s new boyfriend. Beth looked like she was trying to burn a hole through the math book with her eyes. She sighed in exasperation and pinched the bridge of her nose.

 _“So serious for a twelve-year-old.”_ He thought to himself.

“You... you need some help?” Stan offered.

“I- I don’t even know why you waste your time with this homework shit, Beth. Total waste of time. You think you need to… you need to spend the rest of your life knowing how much- how much candy Timmy has if- if someone takes half of it and then solve for x or some shit?”

“It IS, important, dad! How am I supposed to get into medical school without good grades?”

“It’s always about school with y-you. If you-if you like school so much, you should marry it or something. It’s not for smart people, Beth. Not for smart people. All good grades-- all they mean is that you know how to comply, Beth. They’re just teaching you how to be a cog in the wheel of the system. And not even like- like a good system—“

“Can you just look at this problem for me, dad?” Beth interrupted, sliding the book towards Rick. He looked at it.

“W-well the answer- it’s obviously 45.”

“How do I solve the problem, though?” she asked.

“S-solve the- you look at the- you look at it, Beth. You just look at it!”

“But, can you give me the steps?”

“What the hell, Beth? Do you-do you think life is just going to give you the steps for everything or some shit, Beth? I saw a giant space squid eat an entire- an entire solar system, Beth. I didn’t get the steps for that.”

She looked down dejectedly.

“I’m sorry, dad. I just don’t get it.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

Stan leaned over to look at the problem. He thought back to the very few times he’d actually paid attention in school. It looked like something he might be able to handle.

“Well, sweetheart first you’ll add the—“

“N-no one fucking asked you, Stan!” Rick snapped at him. Stan flinched.

“Why are you such a JERK, dad?!” Beth yelled.

“I dunno, why are you so DUMB?!” Rick yelled back. Beth burst into tears. Rick mumbled something about not having time for this shit and stormed upstairs. Stan was left at the table with a crying little girl, feeling dismayed. He’d seen a lot of shit in his day. He knew exactly how to kill 23 different types of alien life forms. He knew how to remove a bullet from his own stomach using a plastic spork and cauterize the wound with a car cigarette lighter. He did not know how to deal with this. His arm involuntarily reached over and rubbed Beth’s back as she put her head in her hands, slumped over at the table.

“I can’t help it that I’m not smart like him…” Beth choked out, her voice muffled by the table. 

“Don’t say that. You’re plenty smart! Way smarter than me for sure!” Stan was a grown man. He could handle Rick’s… moods. But a kid shouldn’t have to take that. He’d been there and done that. It was no way to raise a child. 

“Why don’t you tell HIM that?” She sobbed before running out of the kitchen. Rick heard the door slam.

_“Great…”_

The one thing Stan could thank his dysfunctional family for was that it made him exceptional at de-escalating situations like this. But he took no joy in it. He trudged up the stairs. The attic curtains flapped in the breeze coming through the open window. 

_“So predictable.”_

The pungent smell of Mary Jane hit his nostrils as he stepped out the window onto the roof.

“So, so predictable…”

“I thought you quit smoking.”

Rick shot a nasty glare his way. He was perched on the roof with his knees drawn up to his chest like some sort of annoyingly cute gargoyle. 

“I- I quit drinking already. Wh-what the hell else do you want from me, Stan? Want me to quit breathing too, Stan?”

Stan sighed.

“Whatever, Rick. Forget it.” He sat down next to his sulking boyfriend, who handed him the joint.

“So, we gonna talk about what happened?” he asked before taking a puff.

“T-talk about what, Stan?”

“So, that’s how it’s gonna be…” Stan sighed, handing the joint back to Rick. “Beth’s pretty upset. You hurt her feelings.”

Rick rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“She- She’ll, she’ll get over it, Stan. She’ll live, Stan. Okay, l-look. You and I- we- we both know that ‘hurt feelings’ are- are not th-the fucking worst thing that can happen to someone, Stan.”

“Look. Just because the world is shit, it doesn’t mean you should talk to a kid like that.”

Rick took another drag. He didn’t respond.

“Take it from me. When you’re a kid, there’s nothing worse than hearing that kind of screwed-up talk from your own parents.” 

“Jeez, Stan. Touchy subject, much?” Rick reached over and ruffled Stan’s hair. Stan flinched.

“Yeah it’s a touchy fucking subject! You know that.” he brushed Rick’s hand away.

“You-you wanna know what’s a- what’s a touchy subject for me? Having a- a retarded kid who can’t do anything without-without you- without someone there to hold their goddamn hand!”

“Oh my God, Rick! That’s what parents do! They fucking help their kids!” 

Rick’s eyes grew wide. He looked as though Stan had slapped him. Stan saw this odd vulnerability in the other man and took a deep breath. His voice softened. He took Rick’s hand in his.

“Look, Rick. You know I care about you. A lot. But you are being such a dick about this. Don’t you remember what it was like being a kid? At all?”

The vulnerability went away and concealed itself with a pissed off mask. He pulled his hand away from Stan.

“Yeah! Yeah I do, Stan!” he yelled, his face growing red with anger. “I remember- I remember it pretty su-super fucking well, Stan!” Rick combed his fingers through his dark hair. “I-I remember enough to- enough to know that-that it- you- you’ll fucking get eaten a-alive! Y-you gotta be tough. School? It-it’s fucking brutal, Stan! Absolutely fucking brutal, Stan. You-you put a bunch of kids, you put em in a room and- and you teach em a bunch of shit, and-and God forbid you don’t you don’t get something or you’re- or you got- you got a speech impede- a disability o-or some shit. Oh my God. Those little fuckers- they- they’ll fucking gang up- they’ll fucking slaughter you, Stan.” Rick crushed the joint out on the roof with a shaking hand and laid out flat on the roof, his legs dangling off the ledge.

_“Shit. He’s spiraling fast.”_

“What are you talking about, Rick?” 

“Y-you- you heard me, Stan. They can-they’ll make your life miserable. They’ll come up with-with all kinds of- all these fucking- these awful nicknames and- and you-your teachers- they don’t care and then you just- you don’t even wanna learn anything and then-you really- you’re just as stupid as they- and your parents aren’t any--”

“Rick.” Stan laid down on the roof next to Rick and grabbed both of his shoulders.

“Breathe.” He said in the most grounding voice he could muster.

Rick clapped both of his hands over his face. 

“Oh God, Stan…” he whispered. “I don’t know what to do.” He took in a shuddering breath.

“It’s okay, Rick. I’m here.” 

“What-What is Beth gonna do when she finds out?”

“Finds out what?”

Rick shot up, his eyes rimmed with red. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“What she’ll- what is she gonna do when she finds out her dad fucking flunked out of High School?! That- that her- that I didn’t- that I couldn’t read until I- I was in fucking middle school? That…” He paused. “That I- I can hardly do simple math?”

“What?” Stan was shocked. How was that even possible?

“I-I mean the other- the complicated stuff- it-it makes total sense for some reason. I just- I can’t- I mean- it all just sort of jumbles together in my- my… Isn’t that what a goddamn calculator’s for?!”

Stan was speechless.

“Y-you- you know what? Don’t answer that question.” Rick looked defeated. “I know I’m an idiot.”

Stan sat up beside Rick and clung to him for dear life. 

“Rick. You are not an idiot. Don’t say that.” He said, squeezing tight.

Rick began to cry.

 _“Oh fuck.”_ Stan was terrified.

“Yeah. Yeah I am. I’m- I’m an idiot and I’m a- a terrible father.”

“No you’re not. No one thinks that. We love you. Beth loves you… I love you.”

“Jesus, Beth is- she’s such a fucking amazing kid- she- she’s fucking brilliant, Stan. And, and I never tell her that. She deserves-she deserves so much better than me. H-How did-how did a fuck up like me have such a smart, sweet, beautiful little girl for a daughter, Stan? How, Stan?” There were tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Because,” Stan cupped the side of Rick’s face and swiped his thumb over the tears. Rick looked up at Stan, his lower lip still quivering. “She’s just like you. All those great things… She gets it from you.”

“No she’s not… She-she couldn’t, I… I’m worthless, Stan. T-totally worthless.”

“I don’t think you’re worthless.” Both men froze.

Beth stood in the window, between the parted curtains.

“And I think the fact that you’ve done everything- all that great stuff even though it was really hard...”

Rick and Stan remained speechless.

“Well I just think it’s neat, I guess.” Beth shrugged and turned around. She took a step towards the door. Then stopped. Rick’s teary eyes were wide, his mouth gaping with astonishment.

“And for the record.” She began, still turned away. “I always thought you were a pretty okay dad.” She disappeared from view. Stan heard the door shut behind her.

Rick sniffed and wiped his eyes on his sleeves.

“So…” Rick began. 

“D-did you fucking say that you loved me?” he asked derisively.

 _“Shit…”_ His heart momentarily stopped.

It had slipped out in the moment. Why, God, why did he let that slip?

_“Well, guess it’s time to fess up.”_

“Yeah…” Stan responded. “I did. I do.”

Rick laughed.

“Oh my GOD. You- you’re so lame!” he teased, still cackling.

Stan blushed. 

“Go fuck yourself, Sanchez.” He muttered, crossing his arms and scooching away.

Rick grabbed Stan and pulled him back. He kissed him and then put his head on Stan’s shoulder.

“I love you too… Fuckin’ sap.”

They stayed like this in silence until dawn.

Stan walked down the stairs, carefully avoiding the creakier floorboards of the shack.

“Beth?” he said in surprise. She was curled up on the sofa reading a book. She flipped a page in silent response.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, I’ll--”

Beth placed the book onto the coffee table, and leapt out of the seat. She sprinted up to Stan and threw her arms around him. 

“Easy, kid.” He said, patting her on the head.

Beth pulled away and brushed the wrinkles out of her pink nightgown. She returned to the couch and resumed her reading. 1984 by George Orwell.

“You’re not terrible.” She announced in a cold tone as if citing a scientific finding.

Stan held back laughter.

“Thanks.”

She kept reading.

 _“That’s Rick’s kid, alright.”_ He thought, smiling to himself.

Seeing Rick was already passed out, Stan carefully got in bed next to him. Still asleep, Rick pulled him into his arms subconsciously. He melted into the embrace and rested his head on his lover’s chest. Contented, Stan drifted to sleep.


End file.
